


A Night on the Town

by Red_Seraphim



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Seraphim/pseuds/Red_Seraphim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another fic for a friend, but also for me, because seriously. Brodad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night on the Town

"James, that was one of the most fancy dinners I've ever had," you say, trying to be polite about it.

"It was bad, wasn't it?" he responds, taking your plate and carrying it into the kitchen.

"No no, it was fine," you blatantly lie. It wasn't fine. Sure, it would have been delicious to someone who had a little more culinary appreciation that you did, but it wasn't terrible.

"Broderick, I can tell when you're lying through your teeth." God his voice sounds so despondent.

"Dude, seriously, it was rich. I'm just not used to food like yours. It's way, way, way too classy for me. I subsist on pizzas and Chinese take out. The only thing that you meal was lacking was a connoisseur like yourself."

He looks at you from beyond the kitchen door and he grins in that little way that tells you he's what he'd call 'bemused'. "So you just pushed in into the mashed potatoes because you love me, is that it?"

"See, James, this is why I love you. You can read my mind."

"You could have told me to make something else."

"Well, I was under the impression that you'd have gotten offended if I asked you to make like phone and call the local pizza place."

He looked a little introspective for a moment, and then continued cleaning your plate in the sink, his sleeves rolled up and showing off that arm muscle you love. "Well, I suppose I would have been marginally upset."

Marginally upset. Right. Except this guy's mangrit was so through the roof that 'marginally upset' could mean a broken dining room table. Or a torn smuppet. You figured after that little kerfuffle you needed to integrate him a little more slowly into your world.

You walk up behind him and put your arms around his waist. "But really, it was great. Just not my sort of meal. Sorry," you kiss his cheek.

"That's alright, Broderick. I suppose I have to give a little slack to a man who somehow survived a whole month of eating leftover pizzas and drinking soda. For every meal."

"And what a delicious month that was," you smile, fondly remembering. You're pretty sure you considered being hospitalized near the end, but Striders don't go to the hospital unless something's broken or a bone's sticking out.

"Well, it's getting late. Would you like to retire?" James asked. You look at the clock. It was barely nine.

"Are you kidding me?"

"What?"

"It's fucking nine o'clock," you say. He lightly pats your cheek, the lightest slap.

"Language," he says.

"But seriously, the night's so young it's not even out of the womb yet. It's like, starting the contractions."

"You really have the most eloquent word choices of anyone I know."

"'Cause I'm classy as-" you start, but he gives you a glance that says 'yes I understand thank you very much.'

"Well, what would you suggest we do?"

"Go out on the town? Come on, have you really gone to bed at nine every day in your life?"

"Of course not. There were days when I was younger," he starts, getting that distant look in his eye again. And then he shakes himself of it. "-but I have had to take care of a young child for a majority of nineteen years. I suppose I got into the habit."

"Good God. I had to raise mine too and I still found time to go out on the town."

He smiles and says "Well, I suppose. But you also worked a night job as a disc jockey didn't you?"

"DJ, DJ. Disc jockey makes me sound like I played polo or some shit," you say, catching his hand. "And both John and Dave are off at college, does it really matter to you whether or not I swear?"

He thought for a moment, and then you felt his hand relax. "I suppose you're right. I'm turning into an old fuddy-duddy, aren't I?"

"What? No, no you're not. You're a dad, and that's stuck with you," you say. He might be thinking 'but you're a dad too' but you've had this discussion with him. You were Dave's bro, not anything else. You weren't a dad. You were a provider, sure, but you provided him with some cool shit to keep him quiet when you weren't home and pizza because that's what you ate. You kinda hate thinking about it, but if he considered you a dad, you've always worried about how much of a shit dad you'd be.

"Well, if you'd like, we could go to one of your more comfortable locals, if you'd prefer."

You look over at him. Does he know what he just said? "What?"

"If we're going to go out, I don't have any place to go. I'd be going to bed right now, remember?"

"But you seriously want to come to one of my hangouts?"

"Certainly. As long as it's not an illegal enterprise, I can't see why I couldn't handle it."

You guess he's right. You don't know why, but you feel like a nervous teen around his dad with James sometimes. You mean, he's not old, but he's old enough. You guess you'd get that vibe from him no matter what age he was, really. He's the type to be old at twenty.

"Well, there's a club open I could take you to," you say, a little hesitantly.

He smiles. "Excellent. Let's go. I'll grab my coat."

"You probably won't want to bring that. People throw up a lot."

"Oh," he says, and his face evidently shifts.

When you finally get there, the place is a little wild. You have to wait about an hour to get in, and the bouncer gives James a weird look when he sees him standing beside you in line. James doesn't seem to notice. He asks you what they serve as an average beverage.

"Beer, mostly. Guinness would work for you, I think."

"Very well. Would you like a drink? I'll pay."

"That's very sweet of you, but we're out here for me, so I'll pay," you say. It's a nice card to play, but you also don't want him to be lingering around the bar. People hit on you if you linger around the bar.

But as you turn around, you see that James is apparently a special case. You see that he's been back up against the wall and there's some girl pressing up on him and touching his chest and basically making your sword hand twitch against your side, looking for a katana. You get close enough to hear the tail end of 'come back to my place big boy', but before you can get between her and your man, you hear him say very loudly so some dancers stop and look over,

"I'm very sorry madam, but I am not a heterosexual!"

You're almost certain you're in a serious amount of pain as you fall to the floor, and start cackling.

Later, you two finally leave, you still holding onto a fresh Guinness, with two large stains on your shirt from dropping the first two. Your arm is slung around James' shoulder and he's helping you up the stairs to your apartment.

"I'm very sorry madam, but I am not a heterosexual!" you laugh. Still funniest shit you've heard all night. You had a great time dancing with him too. You're not sure if it was time or drink that got him to loosen up a little, but when that tie comes off James can move that body like no other.

"I couldn't think of anything else to say. How does one turn down a lady?"

"Hell if I know. I just act distant and shit. Makes me of them get pretty disinterested. I was about to take her to the mat though."

"Whatever for?"

"She was messing with my man! Nobody gets to get all up on you like that 'xcept me, Jamie."

He grins and hauls your ass upstairs. He finally lays you down on the bed and the flops down beside you.

"Thank you for feeling jealous over me."

"Well, you're my freaking boyfriend. I think it's excepted I feel a tad possessive," you say, waving your finger in the air and then running it slowly (or a little haultingly, you're a tad drunk still) down his shirt.

He smiles and pulls you close, in his stiff, strong arms that smell of Old Spice.

"You classy, classy gent," you mutter as you press yourself up against him, letting his scent and arms envelop you like some warm scented-candle blanket shit sold on late night tv.

"Goodnight, Broderick," he says, kissing your forehead, and your eyes slowly collapse to the dull thuds of his heartbeat.


End file.
